


My favourite part is when I died

by KoscheiSigma



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoscheiSigma/pseuds/KoscheiSigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before London, John served in the war. Sebastian was in the war with him. An honorable man...John admired that. War changes people...breaks them in ways only soldiers understand. Some pay the price worse than others. John had made his life with Sherlock, had moved on...everything crashes down when war abruptly makes its way back into John's life.</p><p> </p><p>Mature to Explicit warnings. Just seeing how it goes. Various periods of time. AU I guess. Exploring ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My favorite part is when I died

Captain John Watson likes Sebastian Moran. The cocky young sharp-shooter had a mouth and an attitude to match. But damn, was the man loyal and proud. John often liked taking tea with Sebastian when they had a chance among the sand, death, and heat. Sebastian knew how to make the horrors of war softer, mellow even…his humour and wit was something the boys liked at night…he kept moral up with his sharp tongue. John didn’t mind him helping in the medical tent when hands were short, and he needed cooler heads to prevail. Sebastian was a wonderful, bright young man, with a future before him. John had admired him.  
Sebastian’s eyes swept over the boys that entered the tent; John noted the soft smile the sniper gave them before returning to the up-keep of his gun. John was keeping up the logs for the day. Food, supplies, daily report of what needed to be done and what had been done. Down time, the few moments he had in the day, had been dedicated to the logs…Only thing John really had to separate himself from the war.  
“Doc, yah betcha the sand spiders get into me pants on purpose?” Sebastian asked suddenly, looking up with his bright blue eyes.  
John blinked, coming back to reality. “Spiders? The camel spiders? No…well…maybe.” John shrugged. “Shouldn’t mess with them, now should you?”His fingers scraped over the two day old beard that had been growing. He would need to shave soon...when he had time.  
Sebastian snorted. “They ‘ome in the damn tent…dogs won’t go near ‘em. Bite too much.”  
John gave the sniper a look. “I don’t think they bite.”  
Sebastian shrugged. “Dogs won’t go near ‘em. They take bullet fire, but won’t go near some damn bugs.”He said, reassembling his gun. He put it away, looking to John properly.  
John waited until the other soldiers left before leaning back in his seat, regarding Sebastian for a while. “We’ve been here for a while. You and I the longest, I think.”John nodded.  
Sebastian gave an easy smile with a nod. “…Yeah…yeah we have.” He stood and went to John, leaning down to be eye level with John. “Just work well with yah.”  
Sebastian reached up and ran a thumb over his lip, brushing over an old scar. John followed the thumb with his eyes, before looking up at Sebastian’s eyes. A warm heat lingered behind those eyes. John was flattered…if he had felt differently…  
The sniper smiled a bit before leaning forward and kissed John’s forehead. “Lead us home, Captain.” He murmured, pulling away to go back to his seat.  
John blinked, blushing a bit, then nodded. “Yeah…I’ll do my best, Sebastian.” He said.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, John finishing his tea, Sebastian relaxing in his down time. It was nice while it lasted.  
“You should meet my brother.” Sebastian said. “Ponce git…You’d think we didn’t grow up together…Fancy, smart…right arse.” Sebastian cracked a smiled as he closed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “You’d hate ‘im.”  
“Why would I meet someone I hate?”John asked, rolling his eyes a bit, amused as he watched the young man. Sebastian chuckled.  
“So someone finally gets me and I can make fun of ‘im with someone other than myself.” Sebastian chuckled.  
John laughed, finishing his tea. “Right.” He shook his head.  
John stood and paused when he heard the dogs barking. Sebastian opened his eyes, frowning as he stared at the wall, listening. “…Seems like we’re up.” Sebastian stood, heading out, grabbing his armour and gun. John nodded, doing the same.  
The distant sound of POP! POP! POP! Came from the east. Enemy was engaging one of their groups…John felt antsy, needing to get to them. They could be hurt…he needed to get there. He shouted orders and lead an Alpha group in. First in to provide covering fire.  
“Captain! Jones is down!” Came a shout to his left. John rushed over, letting his men do their jobs. John reached Jones and tended to his wounds. Shot in the leg…  
“Cover me!”He yelled to Sebastian as he seemed to materialize beside him. The sniper nodded, laying down cover fire as Captain Watson picked Jones up and dragged him out of line of fire.  
John gave the soldier a quick patch job before handing him off to the camp doctors, and rushed back to the guns, bombs, and yelling. Field Doctor at his finest.  
More shouts for a medic…They were taking too much fire…it was becoming too much…John couldn’t keep up. He was patching and moving onto the next man, having dragged them to a safer spot. John couldn’t leave the field…there were just too many that needed him.  
“Man down! Moran down!” Came a shout from somewhere to his right. John jerked around, his eyes wide, his breath hitching in his chest. The captain rose without realizing it, rushing to Moran’s side. “Go!”John yelled at the soldier who was waiting with Sebastian.  
John looked down at the man at his knees. Covered in sand, blood, and other things John could never identify, Sebastian gave a shaky wheeze. “Heyah, Doc…seems I got hit.” He gasped, coughing up blood.  
The dark stain spilled over the scar, mixing horribly with the sand as Sebastian shook a bit. “Shhh…sh…shut up.”John said firmly, finding the wound. “Not bad….just looks worse than it is.”  
The wound had hit his leg. The blood in his mouth must have been when he had bitten his tongue…had to be. John had to hope that it was all that it was…he wouldn’t know for sure until he got Sebastian back.  
A sharp hiss of a bomb crashing down, followed by a deafening explosion spat sand all over him. John gasped, eyes wide as he covered Sebastian, hunching over him. “Stay with me.”He hissed at Sebastian. “I’m going to get you home.”  
John wrapped Sebastian leg tightly, straightening up. “It’s alright, I’m rig-“  
John’s body jerked forward as his eyes widened in pain. It bloomed cruelly from his shoulder as shock took over quickly and abruptly. John fell in the sand beside Sebastian, cursing loudly.  
Sebastian wheezed, reaching over to his captain, shifting to cover him the best he could. “C-Cap…sh…shit…hold on…look!”He grabbed John’s armour and shook him. “Dogs, damn things…”He gasped, looking to the army dogs rushing towards them.  
Sebastian made sure the dogs grabbed John first, making sure that their handlers had the captain first.  
“Se…Moran is still there!” John yelled, struggling to get up as the medics grabbed him.  
Another whistle of a bomb came through the air as Sebastian caught John’s eyes. John didn’t see fear or anger, but acceptance. Sebastian Moran accepted his death right there and then.  
“NO!” John bellowed as the bomb exploded, sending his world into blackness.


	2. My favorite part is when I died

Cold and wet. Iron biting into his wrists and the pain. The pain told Sebastian he was very much alive. He could do this. Where ever he was he could make it. He had to make it. For John...for Jones, for Morris...Poor Morris...  
Sebastian twisted in his chains, grunting softly as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of the muddy shack he was in. Iron bars, sturdy walls. Not that it mattered...he couldn't move if he wanted to. His leg was shot to hell; but thank god for his doctor...Sebastian smiled at the thought of John, making his tea in the tent. The way the man light up at the smell of warm milk and sugar mixed in with some Earl Grey. The doctor and his domestic habits. Sebastian smiled a bit more, then grunted in pain as he shifted.  
“Stay sharp.”He whispered. “Gotta...only way, yah?”He muttered up at the ceiling.  
The sniper frowned as he thought about why he was there. Someone had planned this attack...that much was obvious now he looked back at it. Captured four soldiers. Two snipers, a boulder for a man, and an intelligence man. Sebastian frowned. Key players on a field of battle? Maybe...They had taken out the Captain...he would have been more useful to them in the long run...knew more. Sebastian turned his head to the door, having heard footsteps. He frowned as a key scrapped the lock somewhere down the hall and door was yanked open. It rattled and protested slightly under the force. The soldier heard the crack of a whip and a sharp cry.  
Oh. Torture.  
The cold detached thought floated into Sebastian's mind as he stared at the door. He blinked slowly and then turned his head away, his heart racing. His tongue flickered out to wet his chapped lips as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn't keep the sound of screams out. His hands shook as the door down the hall slammed shut and they moved onto the next room...  
It went on for what seemed like an hour...each room aside from his was the same. Sebastian braced himself for the door to swing open as he heard the foot steps approach his door. A strangled cry escaped his lips as the door creaked open and food was slid in, then the door abruptly shut. Sebastian stared, wide-eyed and panicked.  
“...What?”He breathed.  
Sebastian couldn't believe it...nothing happened to him. He blinked a few time, and looked to the food. With some effort and a cry of pain, Sebastian rolled over to his front and forced himself to crawl the few feet to his food. He made his way over and sat up with effort, gathering his poor rations into his lap, eating slowly. His mind was racing, trying not to freak out. He set the food down, recollecting himself. He had to stay focus.  
The soldier curled up in his corner, glancing at his leg. No matter how well the captain had done to his leg, it was going to get infected if it already wasn't. He tilted his head resting against the wall, shivering a bit. The sun was going down...going to be a cold night. Sebastian closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his body. Fighting sleep was stupid, he needed it if he was going to get through whatever hell he was in.  
Sebastian jerked to full alertness as the door swung open with a bang. He pressed himself against the wall as two men grabbed him. Sebastian growled and gave a shout as he was forced to his knees. God the pain!  
One of the men grabbed his nose, pinching it closed. Sebastian gasped, forced to open his mouth. He jerked a bit as another man came in, pushing two fingers into his mouth, leaving behind pills. As Sebastian made to spit them out, the third man forced his jaw shut. Panic set in again as the soldier twisted and turned, trying to breath. The man's eyes were blank and hard as he watched Sebastian struggle. They stared at each other, fire in Sebastian's eyes as he fought and squirmed against his captors.  
Sebastian couldn't hold out any longer...he had to breath. He swallowed the pills, and was abruptly let got. He wheezed, gasping on the floor, curling up a bit.  
“What you give me?”He gasped up at the men, only to be met with a swift kick to the gut. Sebastian gasped for air, curling up as the men left, shutting the door behind them.  
Sebastian slowly recovered, thanking all the stars he wasn't dead. He shivered where he had been dropped. He curled up the best he could. Sebastian's rational mind told him to sleep. The chains around his wrists rattled as he moved slightly. Sleep sounded great...  
The sharp slap of cold water woke Sebastian up from his sleep. Slightly feverish and groggy, Sebastian lashed out blindly as he was grabbed and hosted up to his feet, shoved against a wall. Blinking away the sleep, Sebastian gasped as fingers were forced into his mouth, more pills dropped into mouth and forced down his throat. He coughed, spluttering. He blinked again, staring at his captors. Five of them now. Sebastian tensed, gasping softly. He knew what was coming; his body braced for it as two men came over, ripping his uniform off. Sebastian grunted as the air hit his chest, then a scream tore from him as a hot poker was pressed into his skin.  
Ah, torture.  
His mind reeled at the thought as he tried to jerk away, only to get another burn to his chest. Tossed to the horrible dirty floor, the rest of his uniform shirt was taken and held down. He growled.  
“Fuck up my tattoo, foking kill yah!” Sebastian's word's slurred as he ate a mouthful of dirt.  
A cry rose from him as a slash cut across his skin. “Geck...Fok...ing...”He gasped.  
The lashing continued for a while, leaving angry red and bleeding welts on his back. Another splash of cold water hit his back, casing Sebastian to scream in pain. The men stepped around him, leaving him on the ground, shaking and wet. The soldier's mind collected itself slowly. Turning to the only thing it knew well...shooting and his gun. Sebastian took apart and reassembled his gun in his mind, trying to block the pain out...trying to not break. His mind ran over everything he knew. He needed a routine in his mind to keep him going.  
Sebastian shook as he stared at the ground. Someone had to be looking for him...all he could hope for with a bum leg...  
No one came looking for him. Not for months.  
The irons around his wrist had been removed as they had started to rub sores into his skin. Mercy, perhaps...Sebastian's mind struggled to keep his routine. It was always the same. De-assemble his gun, clean it, reassemble, put away. Go for a walk in Hyde Park, avoid the geese, go watch the changing of the guards. Go to Soho, take the Oxford Circus stop. A bit of a walk, worth it. See the graffiti near the sex shop, some of the best graffiti in the city. Keep going straight...stop to watch the moving clock...Then...?  
Sebastian blinked. His routine he kept in his mind was interrupted by the scrape of a key against the door lock. The others had perished, shot or starved. He was the only one left...Sebastian had become...something else. Broken and worn...His mind was fading away. Transformed into someone he didn't recognize any more. His face was gaunt and thin. His body covered in wounds, scars, blisters and dirt. He would hardly recognise himself as human anymore. He needed to get out...to kill...to escape. His faith in his military, his government was shattered, broken beyond repair. No one came for him.  
Sebastian was alone.  
He stared at the door as it opened. Something primal rose in Sebastian as he stood. Leg healed and good as new. The pills had been antibiotics he discovered after managed to puking one up. Someone was looking after him, and he had doubted it was his captors.  
Sebastian saw the man...he had a gun...It was just...too god-damn perfect. A raged scream came from Sebastian as he tackled the man, taking the food tray and bashed his head in with it. He kept hitting the man's head until he heard footsteps rushing towards him. Sebastian didn't think as he grabbed the gun from the now dead man and fired at who ever was coming at him. The sound of the gun was music to his ears. The Soldier screamed as he mowed anyone who came into view, emptying the clip.  
Panting, the sniper fell to his knees, covered in blood spray from the man with the food tray lodged in his head. He gasped, staring at the bodies on the floor, shivering. It wasn't out of fear, or anger...but excitement...felt...good.  
His eyes snapped up to a man who approached him, the soldier's fingers worked their way around the trigger of the empty gun, watching him carefully.  
Well dressed, dark hair, cold black eyes...No man should have those eyes. The smile on his face as he looked over the kneeling man covered in blood, just grew.  
“Aren't you just precious?” The cold man said with a soft purr. “Poor you...Now...I'm giving you a choice.”He said, stepping closer to Sebastian. “Me, or the guns out there, beyond these...muddy walls.” The man sneered at the shack around him.  
“...W...what?” Sebastian breathed, shock finally over riding his excitement. Irish man...why would a well dressed Irish man be here?  
The cold man rolled his eyes. “Don't make me repeat myself. I save you, you work for me. Or...” He tilted his head to the blinding light behind him. “Your choice.” He shrugged.  
The sniper rose to his feet, shaky. He stumbled to the man, looking down at him in wonder. This man had come to save him. Sebastian turned his body to the door way, eyes focusing beyond the door, seeing gun men.  
“Well,Tiger?” The cold man had spotted his tattoo on his back. Sebastian didn't mind the name...felt...nice. “Let me take you home and care for you.”He said in a silken tone.  
Sebastian's mind reeled again. It was dangerous, this man was dangerous. A trap! He couldn't escape this one...had to plan carefully...He had to...  
He settled on acceptance. This man saved him. Saved what was left of him and wanted to take him away. He sank to his knees unable to stand any more. Tired and broken, Sebastian could only bow his head as he gasped for breath. He shook as he lifted his head to meet those cold eyes...ones of his saviour.  
“Yes, sir.” Came the rasped whisper, spilling from his lips. Sebastian stared at him as the man pulled a blanket over his naked shoulders.  
“Call me Jim.”


	3. My favorite part is when I died

Months had past. Sebastian had readjusted to London with Jim's help. The wounds healed over in time and eventually the soldier had returned to gun training, focusing his skills. Sebastian's teachings came from the Gospel of Jim and soon, the boy from South England was now the Ghost of London. Forgotten, dangerous, shaped and broken over and over...All for Jim. Sebastian had a stubble of a beard, hair neat and combed, clothes clean and pressed. Jim wouldn't have it any other way...Sebastian didn't want to have it any other way. Jim was order and chaos...and all of it was beautiful and deadly.  
The sniper had headed out to a job Jim wanted him to do, simple. Put a vest on the person in the shower room and wait up in the rafters. Sebastian walked quietly over the pool tiles, hosting his explosive vest under his arm. He pulled the curtain aside and froze. His hardened eyes flickered with light.  
If heaven and hell could move mountains, they had just shifted the entire damn Alps. Sebastian stared down at John Watson on the tile shower room of the pool. He swallowed the lump in his throat, inhaling the burning smell of chlorine from the pool in the next room over. Jim had promised him a gift...he never expected this.  
Sebastian knelt down beside the sleeping doctor, settling his hands on his knees. He tilted his head a bit, taking him in. Jim's men had taken the doctor off the streets with ease, drugging him. Easier to move a knocked out man, then a devil with a gun. What a beautiful present...A sleeping John, in a silly cardigan. The sniper smiled a little, reaching over to run his calloused hand over the fabric. Everything about this was...John. His captain and the broken promise. Sebastian reached up to John's hair, teasing his fingers into the ageing blond hair, before gripping it and yanked John's head up slightly. His other hand traced over those soft lip, taking in the details. He thought he would never see John again...Jim was a beautiful man.  
The soft gasp that came from John set Sebastian alight, causing him to lean forward to get a closer look. Sebastian wanted to tear the soft shirt from him and run his hands over every inch of him. His mind screamed, something wanting to break free, wanting to remind him of tea in the sand. He almost wanted to-  
“Don't forget your objective.”Came the Irish drawl behind him. Sebastian paused, letting John go. He turned his head to glance at Jim and smiled.  
“Never. Thank you for this.” Sebastian nodded. “Its...wonderful.”He smiled, shifting to get his lovely bomb vest.   
Jim loved it, found the vest to be one of Sebastian's greatest gifts to him. The sniper shifted John lightly up against him, tugging off the jacket around the doctor's broad shoulders and pulled the vest on, strapping it tightly around him. Sebastian moved the brown coat to him and set it to one side, then propped John up against the shower wall. Jim came over and reached down to Sebastian, tracing his fingers over his hair.   
“Won't you be a surprise?” Jim murmured softly, pulling Sebastian up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Sebastian leaned into the touch slightly, nuzzling him gently.   
“Go on...He's waking up.”Jim's eyes flickered to John as a soft groan rose from him.   
“The gun.”Sebastian handed John's gun to Moriarty before stepping back. Sebastian looked to John and left, heading up to his perch, gun at the ready. Just needed one...the rest were laser pointers. He waited.  
Sebastian watched as Sherlock arrive and rolled his eyes a bit at the show boating, then swallowed hard as John stepped out. Beautiful and stiff as he spoke. He was too far for Sebastian to hear. Didn't matter. All he needed to hear was Jim's word. Sebastian hissed as John grabbed Jim, watching his eyes widen in surprise. Sebastian reacted, flicking on his laser pointer, making sure it was on John, then made sure his gun was trained on Sherlock. The tension was tangible, however the sniper's heart was even, his head was level headed.   
He let out a puff of air as Jim's phone went off, then blinked as Jim started to shout. He stood, picking up his gun, glancing to John and Sherlock. He frowned as Jim snapped his phone shut, relaxing. It was dealt with. He slipped away, and de-assembled his gun and tucked it into a bag.  
The sniper headed down the block as the police sirens came to the community pool. Jim had escaped and was waiting for him, leaning against a brick stone wall.  
“Yah ruined your suit.” Sebastian said, hosting the bag up on his shoulder. Jim gave him a look, glaring. Sebastian fell silent, waiting for Jim to let his seething take the better of him.  
“Irene Adder is in play.” Jim snarled suddenly.   
“There yah are.” Sebastian said, almost snorting. He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag, blowing the smoke to one side, glad Jim finally let it out. “What yah want me to do?” He asked, looking to Jim.  
Sebastian was startled at the sudden calmness in Jim's body. Then the soldier notice the glittering cold glee in Moriarty's eyes . He lowered the cigarette from his lips, parting them slightly, staring at him. The silence made the hair on Sebastian's neck stand up. A soft gasp escaped him as Jim grabbed him and pulled him closed.  
“Nothing...” Jim whispered in his ear, his breath curling around Sebastian's ear. “You sit this one out. Daddy's gotta play.”He nipped at his ear lobe, then pulled away, leaving Sebastian cold.  
The sniper swallowed hard, forgetting the cigarette in between his fingers, watching Jim go. He dropped the smoke, following the mad Irish man to a waiting car.  
Sebastian set the bag in the back, then slid into the seat across from Jim, glancing to his left. He smiled softly as the man to Jim's left leaned forward and kissed Sebastian soundly.  
Sebastian gasped softly as the man pulled away and settled back into place. Sebastian trailed his eyes over the lean dark haired man.   
“Its good to see you again, James.” Jim purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, thank you to all you beautiful people for reading my work thus far.  
> This is a seg-way chapter, but I hope its just fine all the same. I am posting/writing at 4AM cause that's what Grad-Students do.
> 
> I stuck with Sebastian for this chapter as I felt that John's part was better placed in the fourth chapter, after the established meeting of Jim Moriarty. I wanted to flesh out Sebastian a bit more.
> 
> Neat little ending for you? Maybe a bit...maybe. Anyways. Thank you again. If its your birthday, happy birthday.


	4. Chapter 4

The air was cold, sweet even. The light was blinding and the trees swayed above John. Soft pink flowers scented the air as he walked. The stress of the day seemed to melt away the further he walked in the park. Hills with lush green grass rippled as the wind teased over them with wild abandon. The valley sunk lower, winding behind old crooked trees with branches too heavy to support themselves, lay resting on the ground. The pebbled path beneath John's boots crunched softly as he took tender steps so as to not disturb the peace around him. A pond for the ducks and other wild life rested nestled under a large oak to his right. John paused, frowning as he stared at the pebbled path beneath him, then looked to the brick wall with an iron gate. When did that get there?  
John looked at his hands, suddenly heavy with his gun. His brow knitted together in confusion, then looked around. The lush hills started to crumble, spilling forward with sand. The path started to break and crack under John's feet, forcing him to run forward. The garden's pond started to turn black, bleeding oil from the car that was burning there now.  
“TAKING FIRE!” A scream came suddenly, and the world around John lurched violently to the war. A broken town full of unseen faces, pinning John down.  
Bombs rained down, causing a spray of dirt and sand to hit John's face sharply, forcing him to duck behind the now broken wall. His armour weighed him down, almost holding him down. He turned, shifting his body. John gasped as he touched his shoulder. He pulled his hand away from the wet spot and saw blood on his finger tips.   
“Captain.”  
The cocky tone was soft and cut across the noise. John stood, staring as the world went suddenly silent. Sebastian stood a few yards from him, gun in hand, uniform splattered with burns and blood.   
“Can we go home now, Captain?” Sebastian's eyes were scared, bright. “Yah promised we could go home...”  
John couldn't move as he heard the shrill sound of the bomb dropping, screaming as the world erupted in light and fire.  
“JOHN!”  
The deep baritone voice pulled John up and out of his dream abruptly, a large hand patting his face. John jerked, scrabbling for any thing to hold, finding an arm and a shirt to hold onto. He blinked rapidly, panting as he collected himself.  
“John.”  
The captain looked sharply to the face above him and relaxed. “S...Sherlock. Shit...”John sat up, still gripping the detective's shirt. “Sorry.”  
Sherlock pursed his lips softly, then leaned forward to kiss his temple. “Don't.” He murmured. “Never for me.”  
John nodded, leaning into Sherlock's body, shaking a bit before collecting himself. He closed his eyes, letting his heart rate slow, before pulling away, letting go of Sherlock and sighed. “...Did I wake up the whole house?”He grunted, squinting past Sherlock to the living room window. Day time.

“No.”Sherlock stated simply. “You slept through the night...the dream was only recent.”

John nodded, looking at the clock. 10 AM. “...Glad I don't have work.”He muttered, standing up, stretching a bit. His body was sore from sleeping in his chair all night, and frankly he wanted tea and a shower.  
John's fingers felt a bit stiff as he fumbled with the teabag, frowning as it flopped uselessly to the kitchen floor. He stared at it for a moment, knowing Sherlock was watching him. He sniffed a bit, before bending down to pick it up and get a new teabag. He jumped slightly as warm arms slid around him, pulling him to a firm chest behind him.   
“...John.”Sherlock's voice was soft and low. The detective might not have been able to understand the doctor's pain, but he understood when to comfort him after such nightmares. The really bad ones always where shaped to rattle John to his very core, and Sherlock always brought him back safely.   
A long heavy sigh escaped John as he slowly relaxed against Sherlock, tilting his head back to rest against the crook of his neck. A comfortable silence settled between them as the teabag sat on the table waiting. After a while, John pulled away, kissing Sherlock's chin lightly, returning to make his tea. John and Sherlock's relationship had started a few days before the incident at the pool. John found he was more at ease with himself when he was being honest about what he liked. He may not like men, but he likes Sherlock...he was different, exciting, a mad man, and everything John needed to stay grounded to the Earth. Dangerous, yes...but...nothing John couldn't handle. His friends had accused him of being addicted to danger. Well...they weren't wrong.  
John turned the kettle on, watching it with tired eyes. The wrinkles around them seemed to grow longer with each passing moment. He ran a hand over his face, puckering his lips a little. John jumped again, blinking as he was turned around, finding a set of warm thin lips grazing over his. “Oh..”John breathed, startled.  
He allows the invading tongue into his mouth, letting Sherlock control the kiss. Felt nice to turn himself over to someone else willingly. John slid his hand over the silk texture of Sherlock's shirt, inhaling his scent. The taste of tobacco and smoke lingered in Sherlock's mouth. The smell of something like vanilla and sulphur clung to Sherlock's skin as John took Sherlock in. He wondered if the little things about him mattered to Sherlock. The man who saw everything, missed so much. John smiled softly into the kiss, pulling back as the kettle started to shriek at them from the stove.   
“Tea?”He asked softly, touching the low hanging curls around Sherlock's ears.   
The Detective blinked and nodded a bit at him. “John...I won't break if you ever want to go further. I do know about sex.”  
John laughed, shaking his head, turning to take the kettle off the stove. “I'm sure you know about it, but have you ever acted upon your basic urges?”He asked. “It is natural and you are human, Sherlock, in spite of you not eating and sleeping like everyone else.”He said, making tea.  
John felt lighter, the dream long forgotten. Two sugars for Sherlock, no sugar for John. He liked it bitter. No milk...it had gone off. Sherlock needed to go get some more. If he ever would. John inhaled and exhaled softly, handing the mug to Sherlock and took his back to his chair. The day seemed better now...not so glaringly bright.  
Sherlock followed him back, sitting across from him, not drinking his tea. “...Once or twice. I've had sex once or twice. It was...more experimental.”  
John looked to Sherlock, listening. A small smile flickered across his lips as he watched Sherlock fidget in his seat, trying to get comfortable. John liked his private moments of observation. He knew Sherlock thought he didn't look and understand the world around him like he did; however John was a doctor. And a soldier. Observation saved his life and many others around him a few more times than he could count.   
Sherlock had finished talking about his experimental sex, allowing John to clear his throat to speak.  
“Sherlock...Only when you're ready.”John said, sipping his tea, enjoying the mellow taste. “I think you're brilliant, but you need to take this at your pace...not mine.”  
He set down his cup, tilting his head at the scrape of ceramic on wood, wondering if he had chipped the mug for a moment. John looked back to Sherlock and smiled at the glow around him. Sherlock looked annoyed, which only caused John to smile a bit more.  
The doctor stood with a chuckle, going to Sherlock, taking the cup from his hands, lacing his fingers with his after setting the cup down. He leaned down and kissed him gently. “Sherlock...You are a silly billy.”  
A scoff came from the younger man as John kissed him again. “Really John.” He protested at the name calling. He huffed as John laughed, relaxing again. His mind settled, letting himself be kissed by this brilliant, un-dull man before him. The man who killed for him. Sherlock smiled softly, letting John tease a hand through his hair. Sherlock hummed, closing his eyes, pressing his head into John's chest, enjoying the smell of tea, sweat, disinfectant, and gunpowder that came off of him.  
“John...”Sherlock purred.  
The sharp sound of glass breaking caused John to pull Sherlock down away from the windows, then a stream of very colourful curses came from the doctor.   
“Damn kids.”John swore, leaving Sherlock's side. “Threw a rock...”He huffed, picking up the stone, turning it over. “...Oh, its..a bit of a building. Brick or something.”John said, turning it over in his hand and set it on the fireplace shelf, looking to the now broken window.  
Sherlock rose from his seat, going to the broken brick John had set on the on the fireplace, turning it over in his hand. He blinked as he spotted writing on it. He frowned, taking it to his room, hiding it away and came back as John grumbled, calling someone to come replace the window. He set about cleaning up the glass, annoyed.   
“John...Do you have anyone who would...be angry at you?” Sherlock asked.   
John looked up at him, squinting at him. “No...not that I know of. Why?”He looked suspicious, glancing to the fireplace where the rock had been. He looked back to Sherlock, standing, abandoning the glass.   
Sherlock shrugged. “Just want to make sure we only have one Moriarty to deal with.”  
John scoffed, shaking his head. “I don't have anyone like that.”He said, going back to the glass, cleaning it up properly.  
Sherlock nodded, going to get the bin, frowning a bit. He helped sweep the glass into a bag, handing it to John to take out. He stared at the Doctor's retreating back, glancing to John's computer.  
In Sherlock's room, light spilled through a crack in the shades, capturing the dust that danced in the beam. The bed unmade and clothes setting to one side, neatly folded. His skull had been moved to the floor next to the lamp near his bed.   
On his dresser sat the rock with the words “I like the blog, Captian. I liked when I died.” scrawled across it.


	5. Chapter 5

John undid his shirt, folding it neatly, glancing to Sherlock's sleeping form. He smiled softly as he took off his pants and socks, leaving them on the floor. He could deal with them later. They were in John's room...Sherlock had wandered up there after dinner, babbling about molds or something or other. John had tuned him out a bit as he cleaned up. Now that they where in their bedroom, John could relax. He watched the detective a bit longer before kneeling over his prone form, kissing his hip gently, slipping a hand under the shirt Sherlock had stolen from him. He smiled softly as Sherlock woke, peering down at him through lazy eyes. A smile curled itself over his lips as John returned to his explorations of Sherlock's navel.   
“Thought you wanted to wait.”A murmur came from Sherlock.  
“I did. Do you?”John asked, pausing as he looked back up at those stormy eyes. The detective shook his head, parting his lips slightly. John just smiles softly as he return to press kisses over his skin.   
John smiled as he traced over the moles on Sherlock's side. He would have to watch one of them...His addled doctor mind reached up to warn him about the mole, before John quietly pushed it to one side. John nudged Sherlock to his side, running a hand along his backside. He kissed him again, stroking over the pale firm ass that Sherlock had. He smiled a bit, having had admired that ass in those neat little pants he always wore. Sherlock grunted softly curling up slightly, closing his eyes as he let John explore him. The doctor smiled softly, tugged the pants away from Sherlock's body, tossing them to the floor. Healthy...Half erect...John smiled.  
“Glad I can turn you on.”He muttered softly. Sherlock snorted a bit and looked to John.   
“Naturally.”He said sitting up. John blinked up at him in surprise. He gasped as Sherlock pulled him up into a warm kiss, shifting John to lay back on the bed, pressing another firm kiss to his lips.  
The detective took off any offending bits of clothing, watching John carefully.  
“John.” Sherlock touched his hip gently, cautious.   
John looked up at Sherlock, taking in his uncertainty, his curious gaze, the calculating thoughts in that brilliant head. He smiled a little and reached up to cup those wonderful cheeks. “Its okay.”  
Sherlock nodded before reaching over to fish through John's drawers, finding what he needed. The warming lube John kept in his dresser. John rolled his eyes a bit, annoyed that Sherlock had gone through his things to know where the lube was exactly. He chuckled softly, watching him rub the substance between his nice long fingers. John bit his lip, letting his eyes close a bit. Heat rose through him as Sherlock lifted his leg a but awkwardly. John watched his dearest friend kiss along his thigh lightly as he teased a finger over his dick, fondling his balls and down in between his legs. John gasped as the warm lube touched his hole and moaned loudly as Sherlock pressed a finger into him. Sherlock paused, letting John adjust, watching him squirm slightly.   
“I know you're a top...”Sherlock said slowly.  
John's eyes looked up at him, blinking rapidly. “W...what? Oh, S...Sherlock, its fine...this is fine. All fine.”He breathed, relaxing.  
Sherlock watched John with that look of wonder and amazement in his eyes. John loved that look on him...and it was only for the doctor to see. John smiles so softly as Sherlock's fingers dance across his skin, preparing him. Sherlock pulled his hand away, taking some more lube and rubbed it over his very hard member. John shivered at the size of it, then gasped sharply as Sherlock ran a finger over his dick lightly, before pulling him into his mouth. John gave a startled cry, tilting his head back as the finger found its way back inside of him. John's fingers fluttered closed as he strained himself not to thrust wildly into Sherlock's hot mouth. A whine came from the doctor as he reached down to grip Sherlock's curls. Sherlock slowed slightly before picking his pace back up a bit, sliding that wicked tongue over John's tip, teasing it with caressing swirls. John gasped as he rolled his hips up sharply, whimpering. Sherlock pulled John's hands away, pinning them to his side. He growled softly as he kissed John's hip and shifted to settle in between his knees. John braced himself as he felt Sherlock nudge himself in gently. John let out a small his of discomfort, causing Sherlock to slow, watching him.  
“..Hn...f-...Fine.”John gasped as he relaxed, or tried to. He wasn't use to this...Sherlock was right, he was a top...However, Sherlock needed this. John could do this for him.  
Sherlock pressed in, gasping softly as his hips joined Johns, shivering above him. John moaned softly, squirming to get comfortable, whimpering at the detective above him. A shaky hand found his before those bony hips pulled back and rolled forward again. John's body jerked upwards as his brow knitted together slightly.   
“Shh...I've got you.”Sherlock stroked over John's body. “Shh...”He was being strangely tentative to John. The doctor didn't mind...just found it strange, out of character for the detective. John nodded as he relaxed.   
Sherlock shifted John's legs up more, rutting into John as gently as he could. Sherlock's face became focused as he bowed his head, giving soft gasps as he leaned down to kiss John gently, capturing his lips. John felt Sherlock deep inside of him as his body rocked the bed beneath them. His body felt on fire, and the pressure was slightly uncomfortable. It passed quickly when Sherlock slipped over the tight bundle of nerves in him, causing John to mewl in delight. John clutched at the bed sheets before Sherlock grabbed his hand. Sherlock leaned down, grazing his teeth over John's skin, before kissing over the scar on John's shoulder. John shivered and turned his head away from Sherlock, blushing.  
“Its you.”Sherlock rumbled softly. “The scar...its you...mine...something I can see, no one else can.”He murmured. “My doctor.”  
John blushed more as he smiled. “Your doctor...”He chuckled softly. “I like that. Just yours.”  
Sherlock smiled against his skin as he pulled back, thrusting harder into John, angling his hips so he could move at a deeper angle, growling softly. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's hips, pulling him closer, moaning loudly as their hips slapped together. Sherlock's body arched over John's as he drew close, reaching down to stroke over John's dick, gasping softly.  
“S-Sherlock...look at me.”John pleaded with him, feeling something hot and warm coil inside of him. The detective snapped his stormy eyes up at John. The doctor almost came with the look Sherlock had. Eyes wide, pupils bleeding into the storm that was the color of Sherlock's eyes. His mouth was slack, his cheeks flushed red.  
“Ahnnn...!”John's body bowed upwards as Sherlock reached over to brush over the sensitive nipples, pinching them hard. John hissed sharply, reaching up to grab Sherlock's hand, only to have it slapped away and his hand pinned above his head. John's eyes widen as Sherlock moved a bit too roughly against him.  
“F-Fuc-OH!” John cried out as the lust in him spilled over into Sherlock's hand, bucking up into him as Sherlock slammed his hips against him. The orgasm was dragged out of him as Sherlock rolled his body against John's, hosting a leg over a shoulder, rutting harder into him. John gasped, crying out as Sherlock spilled into him. They cried out together, John whimpering, letting Sherlock milk himself in him, shuddering to a slow stop.   
John panted, slumping into the bed a bit with Sherlock leaning over him, supporting himself with his hands on ether side of John's head. Sherlock's head hung low as he closed his eyes, panting. John moaned softly, shivering as he curled up slightly, letting Sherlock's softening cock fall out of him.   
“John...”Sherlock opened his eyes, looking down at him. He reached a hand up to stroke over his face lightly, before touching the scar on his shoulder lightly. The doctor looked up at him, his eyes hazy with sleepiness. Sherlock smiled, kissing his head lightly.   
John smiled softly as Sherlock stood from the bed. John closed his eyes, shivering as the cooling air around him brushed over his body. He jumped as a cool cloth touched his skin. “Ahn?”He opened his eyes abruptly, looking to Sherlock and relaxed. “...Thanks.”He said softly.  
Sherlock just smiled, cleaning John up gently, being careful. John mewled at the over sensitive skin that was being rubbed by the wash cloth. “Shh...its okay...”Sherlock said gently.  
John groaned softly, curling up when Sherlock was done. He listened to him leave the room, heading downstairs. The plumbing rattled as Sherlock turned the water on to clean the cloth, then turned the water off. John smiled as the stairs creaked as he came back up to sit beside him. The bed dipped next to John as the covers were pulled up around him gently. John rolled over and cuddled up to the wonderfully naked broad chest. He was glad Sherlock had a somewhat smooth chest. John stroked over the cooling skin and looked up at Sherlock, kissing his chin. Sherlock smiled softly, shifting to set the laptop on the night table next to him. John squinted.   
“...Is that my laptop?”John asked. Sherlock pursed his lips a little as if the question was dull. John shifted up. “What are you doing with it?”  
“Work. Reading things.”Sherlock said. John rolled his eyes. “...John. I can't do it on mine, they'll trace it back to me.”  
John raised his eyebrow. “And tracing it back to me is...okay?”He asked.  
Sherlock shrugged. “I can keep my eye on things better if they go for someone else.”  
John sighed, rubbing his face. “Really? Sherlock...”he just sighed again. “Fine...just...let me know what you're going to do.”He muttered, settling back down. Sherlock nodded, watching John slowly drift to sleep. Sherlock eased his arm from under John's head, getting to work.  
Sherlock needed to find out about John's past....everything....email, blog, war stories...everything.   
“...Oh...hello.” Sherlock breathed, his eyes lighting up with the information he found. He would have to make this right to protect John. He just had to.  
Across town Sebastian Moran had a gun to his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Work, school...more school, and the thing known as "Being Inspired" seemed to escape me at the moment.  
> Back on track now.  
> Thank you for all of your views. I appreciate them.
> 
> -KS


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian stat on his knees, body sagged slightly in surrender. The metal of the gun bit into his head a bit as it was pressed firmly against his temple. Sebastian’s eyes were downcast and blank, his mind reeling in panic. Outwardly, no emotion played across his face. His body was numb as he stared at the floor. He had a cut across his brow, shallow, and one across his lip. Not too bad. He could live. The coldness of the concrete floor beneath him seeped into his skin, chilling his bones. They were in an abandon car park. Easier to clean up, Sebastian guessed.   
“If I could catch you like this, what makes you think others won’t?” The man above him asked.  
Sebastian flicked his tongue over his cut lip and started to chuckle. “What makes yah think I din’t allow it?” He snickered, turning his head up to look at the man. “God, yer foked.”  
The man stared down at him, his brow knitted together. “…What?”He stepped back, before he worked it out.  
Clean sharp, slow steps approached them, causing the man to turn, gasping. Fear bloomed across his face as he stepped back. “N…How?” He asked.  
“See…I keep my duckies in line and my best ducky needed to draw out my tail.” Came the cold Irish lilt from behind Sebastian.  
The soldier smiled softly, closing his eyes as he listened to the footsteps come closer. He sighed softly as a hand took his chin lightly, tilting his head up gently. Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open meeting the soulless eyes of Jim. “...He’s damaged you. You allowed this?” Jim asked.  
“I did.” Sebastian said gently. “I’ll live. But yah got what yah wanted.” He shrugged a bit.  
Jim watched him a bit and nodded. He looked to the man and smiles ever so softly. “He’s right, you know. My little ducky is always right.”  
The terrified man raised his gun. “Don’t move!” He growled. Jim’s eyes twinkled coldly.   
“Oh? And if I do, you’ll shoot me? Boring.” Jim snorted. “…No…I don’t need to move to kill you.” He said, pursing his lips slightly. Jim looked to Sebastian, rubbing his thumb over his cheek lightly.   
Sebastian just smiles, and leaned into his touch. “Get yer answers…” Sebastian reached up to Jim’s waist, feeling along the silk shirt, humming. Jim smiles and watched the man.  
“I’m guessing that Mycroft sent you.” Jim said, watching for any reaction. He smirked softly as the eyes widen in the man. “Good.”  
Sebastian’s fingers brushed over the metal of the gun tucked in Jim’s pants waist. His fingers wrapped around it as he stood and turned. “Told yah, yer foked.” Sebastian raised the gun and shot the man in the head.   
The body crumpled to the ground before Sebastian lowered his hand, sighing. “Well…”He shrugged, slipping the safety back on the gun, before looking down at Jim. Jim turned to him, taking the gun.   
“You shouldn’t have let him mark you.” Jim muttered, running a thumb over the cut on Sebastian lip.  
Sebastian shrugged a bit. “Had to make it look convincing.”  
Jim sighed, glaring at him before walking away, Sebastian following him. They got into a car as Jim worked away on his phone. Sebastian settled into his seat, looking out the window, watching the rain start to fall down. He smiles, glad London’s weather was so damn predictable. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of cold and rain, relaxing. He felt tired…It had been a long day. Guns, explosions…it was productive, but tiring. He frowned as they stopped in front of a modern London flat.   
“Get out…we’re stopping here.” Jim slipped out of the car. Sebastian nodded, following him, shutting the door behind him.   
They went up to the second floor to Number 2H, Jim knocked on the door. It swung unceremoniously open. Jim nodded Sebastian inside, causing the soldier to pause, his heart racing wildly. Jim rarely let him in first. Sebastian heads in, glancing to Jim before pausing a few feet in.  
“…James?” Sebastian questions as he saw Jim’s twin standing before him.  
“You let that bastard mark you.” James said in a sour tone, crossing over to Sebastian, gripping his hair and tilted his head back. Sebastian swallows hard and nods slightly at him. James tutted softly as Jim came over, running a hand over his back.   
“Shame…really…I was hoping I would be able to do that tonight.” James hummed, leaning up to bite harshly at Sebastian’s neck.  
Sebastian hissed, gasping as another hand brushed over his now sensitive nipple. “Hn…Jim…James…As much as I like you games…shouldn’t you get ready?” Sebastian said gently. “Irene’s on the move and she could-oh!”  
James pulled away and palmed between his legs abruptly. “Hush.” He growled.   
Jim pulled Sebastian's coat off as James worked at the buttons on his shirt, pulling it away, letting it crumple to the floor with the flick of his wrist. Sebastian glanced to James, taking in those dark glittering eyes, before tilting his head down to kiss Jim, smirking at the growl he earned from James. Sebastian was wise enough to keep his hands to himself as he kissed Jim, gasping sharply as James pulled him away by the scruff of his hair. The soldier couldn't help but smirk as his face was drawn dangerously close to that twisted sneer. His heart raced, keeping his eye contact with James, silently challenging him.   
"On the bed." James hissed at Sebastian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Sebastian's chapter will be in chapter 7. Just a teaser.


	7. Chapter 7

The wet slapping of flesh on flesh spurred Sebastian on. He gripped Jim’s hips tighter, hunching over him as he shoved his body relentlessly into the man beneath him. James was watching off to one side, a whiskey glass grasped between his fingers, his dark eyes smouldering as they raked over Sebastian’s body. Jim’s sharp gasp drew his eyes away for a moment, before he focused back on Sebastian’s well-built form. A hard smile crossed his thin lips as he drew the glass up and took a sip of whiskey. Sebastian leaned over to press his mouth over Jim’s shoulder, but stopped himself from biting down. No marks…that was the rule. Not on Jim or James…No marks…Sebastian growled, pulling back slightly, settling for resting his head between Jim’s shoulder blades. He moaned softly, rutting his hips into Jim’s nice round ass. He reached down to stroke over Jim’s dick, rolling it lightly between his fingers. The flesh was smooth, and even had a nice little knot in it. It was something Sebastian relished when they fucked…Jim’s dick knot and the pleasure that followed him spilling himself into Jim, knowing he conquered one of the wild Irish Twins. Sebastian came back to focus as he heard Jim yelp and give a long moan of pleasure. Sebastian smiled, feeling a bit dazed as he moved his hand from Jim's dick to run it along Jim’s chest, teasing his thumb over his nipple. Another moan escaped Jim as he rocked his hips back against Sebastian’s, grinding himself over the soldier’s toned thighs.  
Sebastian felt the bed dip behind him, hearing the clink of a glass being set down on a wooden table. He inhaled sharply as he felt James’ hand run over his back, the scars, then down over his ass, gripping it. Nails dug into his flesh, causing Sebastian to grunt softly in pain. He slowed down a little as he turned his head to glance to James, before stilling completely. He hissed softly as James moved behind him, letting him go. Jim grunted, hissing at Sebastian to keep going. The soldier tensed a little, caught between two wolves.  
“Easy Tiger…”James whispered into his ear. “Go on…”He encouraged him. Sebastian nodded a little as he thrusts into Jim slowly, acutely aware of James behind him. Jim moaned loudly beneath him, letting Sebastian refocus on the pale body beneath him.  
James placed a hand in the middle of the soldier’s back, pushing him forward, bending him over completely over Jim. His ass exposed in the air as James parted Sebastian’s cheeks, pressing a finger into him. Sebastian gave a strangled sound in the back of his throat as the finger probed him. Not gentle, but not overly hard either; just something dancing between pain and pleasure. Sebastian gasped as another finger pressed into him, preparing him. He was grateful James didn’t like damaged goods...The soldier shivered as the fingers pulled away, and was stilled by a hand running down his back and holding him in place. Sebastian groaned loudly as he felt James breech into him, moving roughly into him. Sebastian yelped, trying to be careful with Jim, failing as his hips jutted forward into him. Jim growled.  
“Easy!” Jim snarled up at them. James just chuckled softly, leaning over Sebastian and bit down on his neck. Sebastian moaned loudly as James clamped down and drew blood as Sebastian adjusted around him.  
The soldier’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, shaking from effort to stay up and not collapse on Jim. James smiled against the abused skin, letting him go as he shoved his hips roughly into Sebastian. The soldier cried out, struggling to stay up. He let James control the pace, unable to contribute more than the occasional grunt of pleasure as James brushed over his prostate.  
“Fuck.” Sebastian moaned loudly, rocking into Jim, his body brushing over Jim’s as James rocked them both into the bed. The bed started to shake, rocking hard and hitting the wall. James growled, biting over Sebastian’s skin again, digging his nails into the skin, clawing down it. Sebastian gasped, tilting his head back. James wrapped an arm around his chest to hold him into place, causing Sebastian’s knees to ache from being propped up. He looked down to the lewd form beneath him, running a hand over the prone body, then grunted as his hair was gripped and his head yanked back. “Come on Sebby…Come on…”James whispered into his ear. “Be a good boy for me…”He peered over his shoulder, looking down at Jim as his brother moaned loudly.  
Sebastian whimpered softly as he gripped Jim’s hips again, hard enough to leave bruises. He would be punished for it later, but he didn’t care in that moment. Sebastian cried out as he felt himself release into Jim, rutting against him until he felt Jim buck against him, shoving himself against Sebastian hard. He moaned loudly as Jim spilled onto the bed, crying out digging his fingers into the covers. Sebastian gasped softly, slumping slightly as James kept going, fucking them both into the bed hard. Jim growled, becoming over sensitive. James just laughed and ground his body into Sebastian, marking him again. Sebastian cried out again as James shoved himself as far as he could, releasing into him. Sebastian felt a wave of hot bliss wash over him, his vision going white for a moment as he released again, spilling over Jim as he pulled away. Jim grunted, huffing softly as he shuffled to the other side of the bed. James shoved Sebastian forward, fucking him through his high. James spilled into him again with a sharp intake of air, his hips stuttering to a slow. Sebastian grunted as James pulled away, sitting on the bed.  
James was silent for a moment, looking to the panting soldier beside him. “Don’t get caught again.” He said, standing. “Next time I will kill you.”  
Sebastian nodded weakly, struggling to keep his eyes open. Jim stood as well, leaving through the open door James had tugged open. “There won’t be a next time.” Sebastian mumbled, closing his eyes as James smirked.  
“Good…I hate to kill my best toy.” James crooned, shutting the door behind him as he left.  
Sebastian felt alone as he slowly drifted to sleep, sticky and exhausted.


	8. The game they played

John was having a nightmare again. Sherlock reached over hesitantly and stroked John’s hair before shaking him lightly. John hissed, eyes flying open, unfocused for a moment. He blinked, finding himself back in the warmth of their bedroom. He shuddered as he sat up, noting that Sherlock’s arms had settled around his waist.  
“…I keep seeing him.” John coughed, rubbing his eyes. “Moriarty’s visit…just…it…I see Sebastian.” He sighed, hunching forward as Sherlock’s long fingers rubbed his back.  
“John. There was nothing you could do.” Sherlock said into his shoulder. “Nothing at all…The bombs…the shelling…they’re not your fault.”  
“Lost lives can be.” John mumbled, looking up to squint into the morning haze of light.  
“Sebastian’s life was taken by the bombs, John. Not you.” Sherlock said firmly.  
John sighed. “I had him in my arms.”  
Sherlock leaned up, kissing his cheek. “John…”He murmured.  
“I’m fine…I should get ready for work.” John grunted, laying back down and curled up against Sherlock’s side.  
The detective tilted his head, stroking his hair, before laying down beside him, wrapping his arms around him lightly. “Perhaps.”  
Sherlock held John for a while longer, letting the smaller man settle and relax. He didn’t mind the affection and closeness from John. Sherlock closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun slide over his back and up over his shoulder. The calm was broken by the loud beeping of John’s alarm clock, causing the doctor to groan and roll over to hit the off button. Sherlock let John go as he rose from the bed to go shower and shave. He listens to the water run as he stared up at the ceiling. His mind seemed keenly interested in everything that was John…He found he didn’t mind that he never left the room labelled “John Hamish Watson” in his mind palace when the captain was around. John would always come first…Sherlock found it to be a way to centre himself after a case. John’s annoyed sighs and wrinkled nose after Sherlock did something he didn’t approve of were some of Sherlock’s favourite expressions.  
The water turned off, causing Sherlock to blink as John came out of the bathroom, drying his face. The detective looked John over as he went to the wardrobe to pull out a work jumper and vest. Sherlock smiled a little as John picked out a tie to go with it. Impressing someone at work…? Perhaps. Sherlock liked the tie…it was plain, but so utterly John at the same time. A soft sigh of contentment escaped his lips, causing the captain to look over at him.  
“Somethin’ the matter?” John asked, fixing his tie around his neck. Sherlock shook his head a little.  
“No.” He drawled, rolling over, curling up. “Make sure to bring your wellies.” He hummed.  
John looked out the window. Bright and sunny…a rare morning in London. He picked up his wellies anyways. “Thanks. I’ll be off. I’ll put the kettle on for you.”  
Sherlock hummed softly as John came over and kissed his temple gently before heading out. Sentiment…John had enough for the both of them.  
Sherlock must have fallen asleep again. He was being woken by the shrill shriek of the kettle on the stove. Grumbling softly, he rose, dragging the covers around him as he went to take the pot off the heated plate and set it aside.  
His phone went off across the room, followed by a small blip indicating that there was a photo attached to the text. Sherlock paused, turning his body towards the phone. Mycroft would just call if it was important…was it John? He went over to his phone, picking it up and pulled the text up.  
“Time to play.” The text read.  
Sherlock’s eyes widen slightly as he hurried to pull open the photo that was attached.  
Hands were tied tightly above his head with the tie he had picked out that morning, the vest and jumper torn and dirtied, deliberately cut open along the middle of the chest. John was supporting a busted lip and a bruised cheek, and what look like the start of a black eye. Tousled hair hung in his face as it seemed to be forced back to look at the camera. His defiant glare put Sherlock at ease, knowing John was alert. Blood had stained the torn jumper and smeared across the exposed chest of the captain. Sherlock scrolled the picture down, relaxing a bit. John’s pants were fine and the belt still in place.  
That was something.  
Sherlock paused as another text came through.  
“I’ve got my prize. He’ll want his.  
-S.”  
Sherlock paused. “’S’?” He said aloud and dropped his phone. He rushed to his room and got dressed. He went back to the living room and called Mycroft.  
“A bit early for you, isn’t it?” Mycroft’s bored tone came across the receiver.  
“Shut up and listen.” Sherlock snapped. “John’s been taken…I need his company files…everyone who he’s worked with, who’s first or last name starts with ‘S’. Mycroft, hurry…This isn’t about me this time.” Sherlock said. “It is, but isn’t.” He grabbed his coat, darting down the stairs, mobile pressed to his ear.  
“I’ll find something.” Mycroft’s tone changed like a storm. “Don’t act foolish.” He warned, hanging up.  
Sherlock shoved the mobile into his pocket, hurling the front door open with a loud bang!  
Sherlock jerked back, his curls bouncing off his face as a soft gasp escaped his lips. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of a gun pointed right at his forehead by a tall blond man with a cigarette between his lips.  
The man tilted his head at Sherlock. “Just bad luck, really.”  
Birds screeched and flew away as the gun went off.


	9. The Solder's encounter

So its been a very long….long time. And I’m sorry. But here it is, at long last, Chapter Nine. Life got in the way a bit, meaning Im doing my second Master’s, via research, and now settling in to take on a PhD. So…please forgive my tardiness and please enjoy.  
Much love and care  
-K

His skin burned. No…crawled would be the better used. Yes, his skin crawled as his senses were assaulted by too many smells, sounds, touches. The wool on his jacket scraped and irritated his exposed wrists.  
Sherlock had to admit: It was one of the worse highs he ever had.  
The gun had gone off…just not the one in the blond man’s hand. No, there had been a second man behind him, one Sherlock didn’t notice until it was too late, and needle was already being jabbed into his neck, by the blond man. Was this “S”? Had to be. The gun went off from the second man, a distraction so Sherlock could be drugged by the first man.  
“Complicated.” Sherlock mumbled, forcing one eye open. The other seemed to refuse to cooperate at all, remaining shut.  
“Naturally, how I roll.” Jim’s voice drawled somewhere above him. “Seems he did a well bang up job on you. I’ll have to tell him to dial it back next time.”  
Air left Sherlock’s lungs as a hand gripped the front of his shirt, jerking him forward.   
“Do you want to see a show?” Jim breathed into his ear. “Because I think you’d like this one…you’ll be utterly FASCINATED!” Jim barked the last word at him, causing Sherlock to hiss in pain, eye closing.  
“No, no, no, Sherlock. You get to watch. My best toy against yours. This was his birthday wish. Did you know?” Jim dragged Sherlock across the room, then gripped his hair and shoved him against some glass. Sherlock hissed in pain, opening his eyes, hands pressed against the glass. Jim pressed a button on the intercom between the two rooms. Where they in an old police station? Sherlock had to wonder for a moment before Jim spoke into his ear.   
“Look how…hurt he is, Sherlly. Your John. My, my…Sebastian hasn’t even come to see him yet.” Jim hummed, tightening his grip on Sherlock’s hair.  
His senses were utterly over whelmed from pain now. Whatever the drug had been in the syringe was making his mind not function. Sherlock hated it; he needed to breath!  
His eyes snapped to John, tied up as he had been in the photo sent to him. John seemed out cold for the moment, but he was breathing…All Sherlock could focus on was the small rise and fall of John’s chest.  
Sherlock’s eyes snapped to the door as it scrapped over the concrete floor, squealing and groaning loudly as it was opened and shut. The tall blond man was back. Sherlock squinted at the man as he dragged a chair over to sit in front of John, the metal legs scraping loudly before coming to a rest. The blond man sat down, folding a leg over the other, and pulled out a smoke. He observed John as he lit the cigarette, inhaling a long drag before blowing it out. His shoulders relaxed as he settled into his chair, taking in John’s features.  
Sherlock loathed the way the blond man looked at John. Then realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. “Sebastian…you mean the same Sebastian from John’s troop in the war.” Sherlock rasped out at Jim.  
The Irish man rolled his eyes. “Took you far tooooooo long Sherlock.”He said in a sing song tone. “The very same…if he weren’t such a broken man, I would say the same Sebastian that saved his captain allllll thosssee yeeaarrs agooo~.” He hummed. “But…torture can shape men like no other. A Sebastian went in, but a different one came out.”  
Sherlock went back to focusing on John. The doctor was slowly coming around, shifting his bad shoulder slightly as he woke up. A soft cough escaped John as his eyes open, slowly becoming focused as he inhaled gradually. Sherlock saw the shift from innocent doctor to deadly soldier as John saw the man in front of him, then looked up.  
What Sherlock didn’t expect was anguish to follow the look of the deadly soldier. The sight of Sebastian caused John physical pain…  
“Told you it was fascinating. Two war heroes, two different paths, two…conclusions, Sherlock.”Jim said, pressing his face harder against the glass. “Will John kill him? Will Sebastian kill John? Or…?” Jim looked to John as he started to speak.  
“I saw you die.” John said slowly.  
“You saw bombs hit around me. No one found a body. No one looked for me.” Sebastian said evenly. “I was tortured, you know.” He said, inhaling another drag from his smoke.  
John frowned. “I…I didn’t know, Sebastian.”  
“I know.” Sebastian scowled. “Nay one knew, and I was there…and I saw our men die. Captain John Watson….fock yer title. Yah left us behind.”  
John’s face wrinkled in despair, his lips parting. He didn’t know what to say, what could he say? His heart was racing. Sweet, young Sebastian…John remembered that man. Bright eyed, so full of energy, hope, carefree…This man in front of him was harden, cold, angry, and deadly. John felt a shiver of fear run up his spine as he watched the ominous posture Sebastian took as he leaned forward, closer to John. His eyes were unsympathetic as they swept over John’s tattered form. Sebastian’s tongue flicked over his lips before he continued.  
“Then…Jim came. He came and rescued me. I get back home and find I’ve been dishonourably discharged for killing civilians!” Sebastian snarled. “Fock that! I were straight as ah arrow! You, the damn bloody government told me ta stick it up me arse. Some welcome home, Captain. Some welcome home.” Sebastian stood, crouching next to John.   
“So. I became what they said I did. Jim lets me kill all them civilians I want and does nay care.” Sebastian held up the cigarette and then slowly pushed the burning end against John’s chest, baring his teeth as he did so.  
The captain yelped in pain as Sebastian held it there, watching him squirm. “Welcome home, Johnny Boy. Only be fitting to welcome yah home me self.”   
Sebastian tossed the cigarette aside, his jaw clenched tight, a dead look in his eyes as he stood. “Come and find me when yer ready to play, Captain.” He said, pulling the screeching door open, heading out.  
“Seems our time is up, Sherlock. Now you know the game.” Jim let go of Sherlock, watching the great detective slump against the glass and curl up against the floor. “Your brother will want to make a note of this in his little book of his.” Jim drawled, his footsteps crossing the cold hard floor.   
“Next, time Sherlock. I don’t think Sebastian will forget his gun. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you as always.” Jim said, pulling a distant door open. It closed with a rather loud bang.  
Sherlock wheezed softly on the floor, struggling to sit up. He peered through the glass that separated his room and John’s.  
John was trying to wiggle himself free, but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. He looked over to see Sherlock, giving him a pained look, tilting his head to rest against the crook of his arm.  
“Seems I’ve balls this one up a bit.” John said weakly.  
Sherlock shook his head, and regretted it as the world spun around him. “N-No…no…You didn’t know, John. No one…knew.”   
Sherlock bit his lip, looking away. He doubted his own words. “Mycroft didn’t know.”  
John gave a shaky laugh. “My arse he didn’t know. He knows everything.” John said softly.  
He jumped as the door flew open, Mycroft’s men came in, sweeping the area. Sherlock sighed softly, turning so his back rested against the glass and wall behind him, closing his eyes.  
Mycroft could wait another day. John’s safety was more important. His drug addled mind tried to reach out to the furthest corners of his memory, but found himself struggling. Sherlock couldn’t solve this one just yet…Was it simply just Sebastian wanting to get at John?  
It couldn’t be that simple…could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and all related Characters belong to the BBC. This is a fanfiction.


	10. The Captain's Sarrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am terribly sorry for not updating as much as I wanted. Between getting a 40K dissertation done about the Transformative properties of Fairy Stories into Ghost Stories in Shetland, I also moved into a cheaper flat. And became a Beekeeper. And entering into PhD.  
> My life.  
> I guess I've been utterly busy.

If felt like being wound up again…like a toy. The senses came back slowly to Sherlock as he felt himself emerging from the void that had engulfed him. The seagulls of Baker Street screamed from the building across the street, the smell of tea, resin, and the odd chemical penetrated his sense of smell, then the warmth of the sun’s rays contrasted against the cool shadows of his room on his skin. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, feeling his mind wake up and narrowly focused on one thing.  
“John.” He groused out, a metallic taste tingled on his lips as he ran his tongue over them, his hand searching for something to grip as he tried to sit up; head swimming.   
“He’s sleeping, Sherlock.” Mycroft’s voice irritated Sherlock more than the seagulls did. “Armchair.” Mycroft gestured to Sherlock’s right side. He turned his head slowly, hunching over in his bed, panting a little, relaxing as he observed John resting in the comfortable armchair.  
The light spilled over John’s right shoulder, splashing down his chest and over the right side of his face. His hair looked so much lighter and softer like this. His face was tilted to one side, resting upon his left shoulder. Sherlock frowned, taking in John’s face. It looked far older, worn, troubled even. A look Sherlock didn’t care for in the slightest.   
“His wounds contain burn marks, scrapes, and some deep bruising. Sebastian or…who ever, wasn’t kind to his old captain, it seems.” Mycroft murmured. “And no…I didn’t know we had failed him so hard. Most thought Sebastian Moran was dead…and by most accounts he should be. From what I gather, Moriarty found him by accident.”  
Sherlock frowned. “Accident?” He questioned, looking to Mycroft, his eyes narrowing a bit.  
“Yes…accident. Sebastian was being held as a P.O.W. in a group that owed Moriarty. He went in and had them killed…Sebastian had killed his jailers and stumbled out into the arms of James Moriarty. The torture broke Sebastian completely.” Mycroft frowned, looking down and away.  
Sherlock looked surprised at the emotion on Mycroft’s face, then shrugged. “So why go after John?” He asked.  
“They were involved apparently. John spoke with me.” Mycroft looked back to Sherlock. He saw his brother still for a moment. “They were close.”  
“Doesn’t matter now. We’ve got to find Sebastian and Moriarty before it’s too late. They’ll…Sebastian will only come back, and John will go chasing trouble. He may deny it, but he likes the danger. This…this is right up his alley.” Sherlock huffed, flopping back into his pillows, grumpy.   
Mycroft nodded, standing. “I’m already on it. Please…Sherlock. Please be careful.” He nodded again, folding his coat over his arm, picking up his umbrella at the bedroom door, before heading out.

Sherlock looked to the sleeping man next to him, watching him slowly wake up.   
“Hey…”John smiled softly as he opened his eyes, hazy with sleep.  
“John.” Sherlock rumbled softly at him, reaching out a hand.   
The captain stood and went over to Sherlock silently, sliding into bed next to him, curling up against his body. The fresh scent of shampoo floating from John’s hair, along with lavender soap Molly had bought them for cleaning clothes. Sherlock curled into John, holding him close.  
“I thought he was dead, Sherlock.” John mumbled into his chest. “I did…I really did. All the reports told me he was…I…I told his friends back home…”He shivered as Sherlock felt warm tears hit his skin.  
Sherlock held John closer to him. “It’s not your fault, John. You didn’t have all the facts.”  
John gave a shaky laugh, then shook his head. “I should have tried harder…” He mumbled. “Just…don’t know what.”  
Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head lightly. “…We…”He paused, frowning.  
“We have to stop Sebastian and Moriarty. I know. We will.” John muttered, his tone a bit hard. “That’s not the Sebastian I knew…I don’t think I can save him, no matter how hard I try. The doctor in me won’t work this time, I’m afraid. I can’t be compassionate about this…he’s hurt innocent people…I’ve…”He shook his head falling silent.  
“We’ll deal with it later, John.” Sherlock muttered softly, rubbing his thumb across John’s cheek gently.  
Sherlock missed the hard cold look on John’s face. The doctor had been replaced by the Captain. No compassion would be found.

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock and its related characters are part of the BBC and other published artists. This a work of fandom and should be treated as such. Story premise is mine.


End file.
